


Five Weeks, Three Days

by thilesluna



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Detective!Miles, FAHC, FakeHaus, J/A/M, Jam, M/M, boys being bad at feelings, guess who's back with more rarepair hell, it me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9562889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilesluna/pseuds/thilesluna
Summary: Jeremy heads back east to help out some old friends. Miles and Adam stay behind and are really REALLY bad at having feelings.





	

Jeremy leaves on a Tuesday. He kisses Miles and Adam goodbye and climbs into a plane with Jack and is back on the east coast six hours later. Jack hugs him, not uncharacteristic of her, but it feels different than usual and she lingers a little too long, like if she hugs him tight enough, she can protect him even when she’s not there.

He feels silly and shy, something he hasn’t felt around Jack in a long time, when he asks her if she can keep and eye on his boys while he’s gone. She smiles, ruffles his hair and promises to do her best.

There’s a lump in Jeremy’s throat when he watches her pull away.

He doesn’t let himself dwell on it though. He picks up his bags—one for his clothes and one for his rifle—and walks toward the gate, toward the SUV waiting to pick him up.

——–

They fight for the first time four weeks and a day after he leaves. The void in their arms, their bed, their day-to-day _life_ is hard on both of them and it was only a matter of time.

It’s over something stupid. Dishes left in the sink or a towel on the ground, Miles can’t even fucking _remember_ but then they’re _yelling_ at each other and the door slams and he’s left alone in his apartment, sinks to the floor of the kitchen with his back against the cabinet and cries.

Jeremy’s contact with them has been _sporadic_ at best and non-existent at worst. The first couple days were brief texts, letting them know he arrived and met his contacts. They get a picture of a beach on a cloudy day or a bowl of clam chowder, things that they assume are meant to keep their minds off why he’s really there but don’t quite hit the mark.

They haven’t heard from him in two days.

It’s _different_ for Adam, Miles thinks. Different in that he has two whole groups of people he can talk to about this mess and Miles has _no one_. He can’t walk up to the Captain and say “Hey, I’m really down about my criminal boyfriend being gone to help other criminals on the east coast, could we grab a beer and talk it out?”

Miles has Adam but the longer Jeremy is gone, the more they both withdraw into themselves. Jeremy was always the one to kick their asses into being emotionally competent adults and he’s _gone_.

Adam can go to his own crew or even _Jeremy’s_. The FAHC and Fakehaus are on good terms, hell, they team up and run together _often_. They understand what Adam’s going through, they can help _him_ but Haywood barely trusts Miles enough to call him by his first name and he thinks Ramsey would be _ecstatic_ if the day came that Jeremy and Adam ditched Miles because he’s a liability.

And maybe Ramsey is right, the dark voice in the back of Miles’ mind supplies. Maybe he should just cut and run because they really would be better off without him and the trouble he could potentially cause.

The thought of that, though, has Miles’ stomach churning. He selfish, _god_ , is he ever. He could let them go but he doesn’t want to.

Miles leans his head back against the cabinet and closes his eyes. He wonders when his apartment started to feel so wrong without both of them here too.

———

Adam leaves Miles’ apartment and heads straight for James and Elyse’s place. He’s mad; pissed off so much that his hands are shaking but he can’t get the look on Miles’ face out of his goddamned head.

 _“Why are you saying this?” he’d asked. “Adam, wh—it’s not_ fair _for—this isn’t my_ fault _.”_

_“I could have gone with him!” Adam said. “I’m capable enough to do it and I should have but now we’re stuck here because he didn’t want either of us alone.”_

_“So what, that’s_ my _fault?” Miles asked, incredulous. “He wasn’t going to let you go anyway! He didn’t take Michael or Ryan! What makes you think he would have let you go?”_

_“If I didn’t have to be here, I would have just followed him anyway! I actually know what I’m doing, I’m like him!” Adam yelled. “But instead I’m—“_

_Miles blinked, the confusion on his face replaced by something else entirely. Something that kicks Adam like blow to the chest, his breath leaving him all at once. “You’re stuck with me,” he said. The emotion flashes from hurt to anger, something he’s not used to seeing on Miles’ face but it’s clear in the set of his mouth and the furrow of his brows. “Fuck you, Adam,“ he’d spit out like the words tasted as bitter as they sounded. "I didn’t say you had to stay here with me. I don’t need you to_ protect _me. If you wanna leave so fucking bad then GO!”_

 _God, Adam was so_ angry _. “Fine,” he’d said. “Fine, I’m fucking gone.” The slam of the door felt like it was rattling his very bones._

He knocks on a different door and it swings open to Elyse’s smiling face. The smile fades when she gets a look at him. “Jesus, Adam,” she breathes. “What happened?”

He opens his mouth to explain, to tell her about the fight and Miles and how fucking much he misses Jeremy but nothing comes out. He sees the way her eyes search his face and the next thing he knows she’s tugging him in for a hug.

He ends up on their couch, sandwiched between James and Elyse with Benson sprawled across all three of them. Elyse pets a hand through his hair and James does his best to be a distraction—he’s shockingly good at it because Adam actually finds himself smiling a little bit despite the bitter taste of betrayal that lingers on his tongue from his fight with Miles.

Adam falls asleep there, head resting on James’ shoulder.

———————–

The dangerous thing about both Adam and Miles is that beyond their insecurities, they’re also both stubborn as _hell_ and so they go nearly two weeks without a word to each other, both hurt and confused and scared.

Miles throws himself into his work, takes more shifts, works more overtime because every second he’s not doing _something_ , every time he’s alone in his apartment he feels something inside him _break_. He doesn’t sleep well, doesn’t eat on any sort of schedule, waiting until he’s hungry enough that he feels lightheaded. He avoids looking at mirrors because judging by the looks he gets from his partner, Kyle, he doesn’t look good.

He texts Jeremy. He has no idea if they go through or if Jeremy doesn’t see them or if he does and just doesn’t care to text back—the rational part of Miles’ mind tells him that of course Jeremy cares, that Adam does too if he would just _text_ him.

He types up a message to Adam. Deletes it and types another and another and another until he gets frustrated and slams his phone down onto the counter.

Adam was right, Miles thinks. Right that Miles holds them back, makes them weak. He’s got his job and his responsibilities, it’s too complicated and unnecessary and he’s a _liability_ , just like Haywood hissed the night the whole thing came out into the open.

He goes back to his apartment for the first time in 2 days, working a double and overtime, sleeping in his car between shifts, and there’s a note on his counter from Jack Pattillo of all people. He stares down at the looping script, confused as to how it got in his apartment and _why_ it’s there too.

 _Miles,_  
Just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay. Let me know if you need anything.  
-Jack

There’s a number at the bottom and he considers for a moment, punching it into his phone and calling because he’s _not_ okay, hasn’t really been in days but he doesn’t. He crumples up the note and throws it away.

There are missed calls on his phone, texts from numbers he doesn’t have registered, asking him if he’s okay.

He doesn’t answer them either.

The next time he comes home, there’s a pizza on his counter, still hot. He stares at it like it’s going to bite him for a moment before his stomach rumbles loudly and he eats three pieces standing over the box.

The next day is Chinese food, the day after that is tacos. Miles rolls his eyes but eats a few bites of each, throwing his hands up in the air after in the universal _There? Happy now?_ gesture, in case someone is watching. He throws the rest away before crawling into bed.

———————

Adam doesn’t fair much better, helped only by the fact that he’s got his crew practically force feeding him and sitting outside his door until he falls asleep. He eats enough, sleeps enough, but spends his days punishing himself with the heavy weight of his guilt.

Guilt over Miles, over the things he said and the way they’d seen each other last. Guilt over Jeremy and not being able to be there for him, to protect him like he always promised himself he would. Guilt over the fact that everything is falling apart and it’s _his_ fault.

He’s drowning in it, struggling to reach the surface and gasp in air but he can’t because he’s just so _heavy_ with it.

He knows the FAHC reach out to Bruce to see how he’s doing. They haven’t heard form Jeremy either and he can practically feel the stress oozing out of Michael when they bump into each other at their favorite weapon store. Michael, thankfully, doesn’t bring it up, though. Adam barely keeps it together when Miles comes up as it is.

Elyse tells him to text and he tries, he really does. He stares down at the screen on his phone, locks his eyes on Miles’ contact information—the picture is Miles wearing a sleepy grin and Adam remembers taking it in the early hours of the morning a month or so after they’d all gotten together. Miles had begged him to delete it but Adam had insisted that it was the best picture he’d ever taken.

Adam locks his phone and throws it at the far arm of the couch.

—————

Jeremy feels like shit for not texting them but he’s kind of busy. You would think a sniper staked out on a rooftop would have more time than anything else to send a message out but his target is slippery and he can’t afford the distractions.

Not that he isn’t thinking about them…all of them; his crew, Miles, Adam, the Fakehaus guys. He wishes he could stop thinking about them, but he can’t and there’s so much riding on him for this mission.

He wishes it didn’t come to this, if he’s honest. The guy he used to work for, a big name in Boston has gotten out of control. Scully was always a piece of shit, but a piece of shit with _morals_ , you know?

(Geoff reminded him of Scully when he first got to Los Santos—it’s probably why he stayed in the first place.)

Now, Scully’s in with the wrong people, doing things that you just _don’t_ do and come away from and Jeremy’s former crewmates want to stop him.

It’s not the most ideal homecoming but it’s what he’s got.

In the end, it takes five weeks, three days, a dramatic confrontation, a smashed cell phone, and a dislocated shoulder and then he’s finally, _blessedly_ , on his way home. He shows up at the pent house, his phone still broken and gets an earful from Geoff and Jack and _Michael_ of all people about his radio silence. He asks about the crew, avoids mentioning his shoulder where it’s sore under his coat, and finally brings up Miles and Adam.

There’s an award silence and Jeremy’s heart picks up. "Guys?”

“We’ve seen Adam,” Gavin says carefully, “but not Miles. Not for a couple weeks.”

“What does that mean?” Jeremy asks, fists clenching at his side. “A couple of weeks?”

Jack speaks softly, like she’s talking to a frightened animal. Jeremy hates it. “I went to his apartment and he wasn’t there. Didn’t look like he’d been there in a couple days.”

“So he was at Adam’s?” Jeremy asks even though he knows—

“No, Kovic hasn’t seen him either.”

“What?”

Geoff sighs. “Kovic stormed out after a fight. No one’s seen Miles since. Won’t answer his phone or texts.”

Someone clears their throat and Jeremy turns to look expectantly. “I saw him two days ago,” Ryan offers.

“Ryan?”

There’s some shuffling as he comes closer and Ryan coughs awkwardly before speaking again. “I—Your boyfriend is an idiot,” is what he settles on. “He’s been working too much and not eating and I’m fairly sure he’s worse at sleeping than I am.” Jeremy flinches, Ryan’s insomnia is well known through the crew. “I—I’ve been checking up on him, leaving food so he eats. Still hasn’t been eating much and looks like he’s dead on his feet. He’s not…good.”

“Jesus,” Jeremy mutters. “I’m going to call Adam to go to Miles’ place. Tell Matt I need a new phone, too. Mine is busted.”

Ryan hums, “That’s probably a good idea. I’m sure you’ll have messages waiting.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes and grabs his keys, his stomach roiling uncomfortably.

—————–

“Adam?”

Jeremy’s voice on the line feels like electricity’s been shot through his body. Adam leaps off the couch, dislodging Benson and James who both make grumbling sounds. “Jeremy?”

Jeremy sighs, the breath rushing out over the phone line and Adam wants to cry. “Hey, Adam.”

“Are you coming home?” Adam knows he sounds childish, knows that he’s a 31 year-old-man but he can’t help it.

“I’m home. I’m in Los Santos,” Jeremy says but it sounds like music.

“Jeremy,” Adam starts, “Jeremy I messed up.”

“Miles,” Jeremy says carefully. He already knows.

“I was such an asshole.” Adam sucks in a deep breath. “I fucked up.” He waits for Jeremy to yell, to blame him for it all.

But Jeremy doesn’t. His voice is quiet and calm when he says, “Be ready in 5 minutes. I’m coming to get you and we’re going to fix it. Don’t worry.”

—————

Miles doesn’t answer the door, because of course he doesn’t. Doesn’t answer his phone either. Jeremy takes Adam’s hand and squeezes it gently. They knock again and Miles still doesn’t answer, even when Jeremy calls through the door. He kneels to the ground to pick the lock while Adam looks on anxiously.

The apartment is a mess when they finally get inside. There are case files all over the living room and it’s clear the trash hasn’t been emptied in a few days. When the door shuts behind them, Adam winces, thinking back to the fight they’d had.

The sound of the shower filters through their shock at the state of the apartment and Jeremy starts stripping his clothes as he walks toward the bathroom. Adam stares after him, hisses, “What are you _doing_?”

Jeremy stops and spins to face him. “I’m going to make this right. You can sulk out there all you want but we did this to him, Adam.”

“We?”

“I should have found a way to contact you guys. I should have checked in,” Jeremy says angrily, peeling off his shirt. “I should have known how much it would hurt both of you but I was too wrapped up in doing what I thought was right by you that I didn’t even _think_.” He takes a deep breath and crosses to Adam. “I’m _sorry_.”

Adam fits a hand to the side of Jeremy’s face and leans down to kiss him. “I’m glad you’re home,” he says, pressing their foreheads together.

——————

The bathroom is hot, the air thick with steam when they push open the door. Miles has been in for a while and he must be out of it because he doesn’t even hear them come in. He jumps when the sliding glass of his shower moves and turns to face them, water dripping down into his eyes. He freezes and Jeremy’s heart _aches_ because he looks _awful._ Adam makes a noise in the back of his throat that tells him that he sees it too.

Miles just stands there, blinking away water and trying to reconcile the fact that they’re both _there_. “I—What are you—How did you get into my apartment?” is what he settles on, even though the answer is fairly obvious.

Jeremy tugs him out from under the spray and into his arms, glad, not for the first time, that Miles’ shower is big enough to fit three grown men, two of which are _giants_.

Not that Miles feels like one right now. He feels small and he practically folds himself into Jeremy, gripping him like he wasn’t sure he was real at first. Adam stays away, keeps his distance until Miles is reaching, arms outstretched to pull him in too and Adam _goes_.

They stand like that for a long time. Until the water stops running hot and the steam starts to leak from the bathroom, whispering apologies against each other’s skin.


End file.
